


N/I/G/H/T/M/A/R/E

by alxndrlightwoods



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angels, Blasphemy, Blood, Cannibalism, Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Episode: s01e05 Moo Shu To Go, Forbidden Love, Gen, Horror, M/M, Nephilim, No one important dies, Panic Attacks, Parabatai Bond, Parabatai Feels, Parabatai as an Eldritch Horror, Pseudo-Incest, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Secret Relationship, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 19:29:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20051344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alxndrlightwoods/pseuds/alxndrlightwoods
Summary: He burns my skinNever mind about the shape I'm inI'll keep you safe tonightMortals aren't meant to look upon the visage of angels. Especially ones that shouldn't exist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I don't... I don't know.
> 
> The way the title is written and part of the summary is taken from S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W by My Chemical Romance. The fic was not written to the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlcXYr-7qgk), but the song is extremely appropriate.

They’re surrounded by werewolves and Clary is terrified. They don’t believe her — they think she’s _ lying, _ because as far as they’re concerned she’s a shadowhunter and not to be trusted — and because of that they’re all going to _ die. _

Then Alec steps forward to put his hand in Jace’s. She knows… Alec has done the bare minimum to help her, ever since they met, but this? She doesn’t know what this is. Doesn’t know why Alec thinks it’s a good time to _ hold hands with Jace. _

She hopes that this is some weird parabatai thing she doesn’t know about.

Then Jace _ laughs. _ It’s bright and carefree, the sound completely out of place and discordant under the circumstances, in the situation they’re in.

Jace turns in place, and Clary freezes at the expression on his face. His eyes are _ glowing, _ a bright, liquid, gold, and then he’s pressing his lips to Alec’s.

No one is attacking them — the wolves seem just as arrested by the sight as Clary is — and after a few moments, Jace pulls back.

There’s blood on his mouth and his eyes are _ empty. _

Clary freezes because… because his eyes are still gold and his eyes are empty and everything about him looks _ wrong. _

Alec’s eyes are gold and empty too, when she looks at his face, and there’s… something. Something happening, something _ wrong. _

There’s darkness crawling up their arms from their joined hands, spreading out from the blood on their mouths.

There’s a horrible sound, then — like flesh ripping and bone cracking — and a flash of light so bright and _ dark _ she can’t see for a minute.

The sounds don’t stop. 

“Don’t move, Clary,” Izzy says urgently from her side, and Clary couldn’t even if she wanted to.

She’s terrified. More terrified than she was before whatever this is happened, something animal in her brain quavering in fear and keeping her in place.

When she can see again there’s this… _ thing _ ripping its way into the corpse of one of the werewolves.

God, she hopes it’s a corpse, because it’s still wolf shaped and she doesn’t know if they’re supposed to turn back human when they die.

_ Please _ let it be a corpse.

She can’t look away.

The _ thing _ is black like tar, like someone reached into the dark sky and pulled down starless night and shaped it into the approximate form of a human, but _ different. _ There are giant feathered wings spread from its back, two, four, _ more, _ she doesn’t _ know, _ because it’s just this mess of feathers spread around its body where it’s crouched over the werewolf. The fingers on its hands are _ wrong, _ turning into wicked talons far sooner than they should.

Would its eyes be gold, if it turned around?

She feels hysterical, breath coming in pants, but still unable to move. Unable to _ run, _ the way she wants to, despite Izzy’s warning.

“Don’t, Clary,” Izzy says again, moving slowly into her line of sight. “Don’t _ move, _ they’ll kill you.”

They. Not it. _ They. _

It’s Jace and Alec, she realises, the knowledge that her mind had prevented her from realising sending terror spiking through her.

She wants to throw up.

Beside her, Izzy starts reciting something in latin.

_ They _ turn their head to look at Izzy when she starts to talk.

Their mouth is dripping blood, a red slash on their face filled with sharp teeth.

Its eyes are gold. Edge to edge, filled with it, liquid light that looks like it will spill down their face at any moment, _ molten _like real gold past it’s melting point.

She can’t distinguish any other features. Just the mouth and the _ eyes _ and she doesn’t know which to watch, which part of them is the most dangerous, the part she should look out for.

The part that will _ kill her. _

It, _ they, _ she has to remember it’s _ Jace and Alec, _ because she already feels half insane and this is what she will cling to, to remember that _ this _ is made up of people who have helped her, who have kept her safe.

Even if Alec doesn’t like her. Even if Jace _ does. _ Which of them is this? Both? Neither? Something _ else, _ something that’s summoned, changed, something _ not them, _ even if Izzy says it is?

They were coming closer. Clary’s mind had frozen in panic, gone off on a tangent that wasn’t relevant when they had stood, fluid, like they were made of liquid or smoke instead of flesh and bone, inhuman.

_ Divine. _

They’re great and terrible, and she wonders if this is what Mary felt like.

She’d always thought — _ Be not afraid,_ the angel says to Mary, and… Clary had always thought that was silly, because why would you fear an _ angel? _

Now she knows. Now she _ knows. _

_ Be not afraid, _ but she is, she’s afraid.

She can’t _ not _ be.

But its — _ they’re — _standing there, not attacking, head tilted curiously to the side, and then there are two people standing in its place.

There’s no blood on them, except for the smears of it on their mouths, from _ before. _

“Thank the angel,” Izzy says next to her, voice shaking.

“What—” Clary starts to ask, then stops because bile rises in her throat. She’s shaking, still _ overcome _ with fear, even though that _ thing _ isn’t with them anymore, even though it’s just Jace and Alec, standing before them.

_ God. _ She still remembers the inhuman look in their eyes, before the turned into _ that. _ She thinks she should — it should have been more terrifying when they had been _ that, _ and looked at her with those eyes, but the inhuman eyes in their faces, _ before — _ should be _ less _ afraid, now, but she’s _ more afraid, _ because.

She doesn’t know why. She just _ is. _

No, she does know. Terrible knowledge spreads in her brain, she can’t turn it off, can’t get _ away. _ She does know, because they had done that _ on purpose, _ Jace had _ welcomed it, _ they’d… known that was going to happen.

She puts her hand over her mouth, doesn’t know what to do with this knowledge. It’s _ wrong. _ Everything about this — it’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s _ wrong, _ she _ can’t — _

Izzy jerks her away from them, turns her around so she’s not looking at them anymore, and Clary wants to _ scream, _ because now her back is to them and she _ can’t see them — _

“Clary,” Izzy says, urgently. “Clary, listen to me, you need to make a _ promise.” _

She pulls out her stele and presses it into Clary’s hand, and Clary notices Izzy’s hands are shaking, too.

“A _ promise, _ Clary. Repeat after me and draw it on your heart, _ quickly,” _ Izzy says.

Clary looks blankly at the stele in her hand.

Izzy shakes her, and she accidentally bites her cheek when her teeth clack together. But it snaps Clary out of it.

She presses the point of the stele against her skin and repeats after Izzy.

“I promise to never share the knowledge of the reality of Jace and Alec’s _ parabatai _ bond with any being, in life or death,” she forces out, through a throat that’s locked closed, choking on bile with every syllable. 

“Good, that’s good, Clary,” Izzy says, taking her stele back and drawing Clary into her arms. Clary buries her face against Izzy’s shoulder with a sob.

“We’re going to go,” Izzy says, voice soft. “We’re going to go, back to the Institute, and we’re never going to speak of this.”

“Okay,” Clary chokes out. “Okay, please, I want to go.”

“I know,” Izzy says, brushing Clary’s hair out of her face. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Clary lets herself believe the lie.

She looks back, when they turn to go, Izzy’s hand firm around her wrist, pulling her along.

Jace has Alec pinned to one of the shipping crates, Alec’s arms draped lazily over his shoulders, has his face buried in the junction between Alec’s neck and shoulder. Alec’s got his head tipped back, eyes closed and it’s not… it’s not _ sexual, _ not… they look lazy and satiated.

They look _ wrong. _ Clary isn’t sure why.

What’s more, Clary feels like she’s intruding. Seeing something not meant for her.

She turns away, tries not to look at the bodies that are scattered around them, in _ pieces. _

Terror has settled in her body and she doesn’t think it’s ever going to leave.


	2. Chapter 2

“Jace,” Alec says on a sigh, and it makes Jace’s mouth flood with saliva, chasing away the taste of Alec’s blood.

Jace misses it. He always does.

Jace hums, lips pressed against Alec’s throat, so close to Alec’s pulse he can almost taste it on his tongue. He’d only have to bite a little to feel it for real.

He doesn’t.

“Jace,” Alec says again, shifting a little. Jace sets his teeth lightly on Alec’s skin.

No moving. Stay still.

Alec listens.

Jace laves at Alec’s pulse with his tongue, wishing he could taste the iron copper rust feel of it in his mouth, but if they bleed they _ change _ and that’s not allowed.

Fuck, he hadn’t thought Alec would do it. Not for _ Clary. _ Not with how jealous he was. Not with the _ memory _ everyone had almost seen, when they’d tried to get Clary’s memories back.

They’re lucky Alec realised which memory it had been and pulled away, even if that had ruined their chance to get Clary’s memories back.

Nothing good would have come of an outsider knowing their secret. Magnus Bane might dislike shadowhunters, but he would have reported them to the Clave.

Clary, at least, could be silenced.

Izzy would have handled that, before she and Clary left. Because he and Alec are alone now.

Jace takes a deep breath and lets it out, feels the way they press together as they breathe, just out of time with each other.

They’re in two separate skins now, but pressed close like this is _ almost _ the same, or at least close enough that they can pretend.

Someone moves on the edge of their hearing. Jace lifts his face from Alec’s neck and turns toward it, searching.

It’s Clary’s sort-of-dad, Luke Garroway. The man who had gotten Simon free and let him go, enabling him to find Jace and Izzy and Alec and let them know where Clary was.

Jace is sort of grateful, but not grateful enough to _ not kill him _ if he saw what happened, five minutes ago.

Garroway looks at the bodies, eyes tracking all the ones he can see — Jace thinks there might be some more parts, out of sight, it’s always so hard to remember exactly what they did — before he looks at them, pressed together in a decidedly more _ intimate _ fashion than they should be.

Jace resists the urge to bare his teeth at the wolf.

They’re not a Nephilim right now. That means they don’t let out the sound that’s building low in his throat, vocal cords the wrong shape for the growl.

Jace swallows another mouthful of saliva.

“Go away,” Alec says, eyes half open and head tilted so he can see Garroway. “You and what’s left of your pack can figure this out later.”

Garroway stares at them like he knows something he shouldn’t.

Jace shifts a little, so he’s in a better position to _ move _ if he needs to.

“Is Clary alright?” Garroway asks, raising his hands to show they’re empty of weapons, a declaration that he’s not a threat.

“She’s fine,” Jace says, letting his head rest against the cool metal, settling himself against Alec’s side. They can move faster than Garroway can, if they need to. Even two-bodied.

“Right,” Garroway says, blowing out a breath. He hesitates before lowing his hands to his sides. They watch him with interest.

“The pack felt our Alpha die,” Garroway tells them. “You should… you should go, so they don’t find you here with the bodies.”

“So they don’t ask questions or talk about it where someone can hear,” Garroway continues, when they don’t move.

“Why would that matter?” Alec asks lightly.

Garroway stays _ damningly _silent.

He’d been with Jocelyn Fairchild for years.

If there was even a _ chance _ he knew more than he should…

“I used to be a Shadowhunter,” he finally says. “Graymark. I was Valentine’s parabatai.”

_ No. _

Izzy isn’t here to talk them down. To remind them that they exist in two separate bodies, most of the time.

But there is _ no way _ they can let him live, and if they kill him with weapons, it’ll be obvious.

“I don’t know anything,” Graymark says. “I don’t know anything, and I’m _ not asking, _ but other people might ask questions around other people, who might listen and get ideas. Ideas that they shouldn’t have and that aren’t true.”

He says the last pointedly, like they should _ trust him. _

Like they’re going to risk letting him walk away from this conversation _ alive. _

“Listen to me,” Graymark says, even though they aren’t moving, not yet. Animal instinct. “I hid Jocelyn and Clary for years, helped protect her. I raised Clary like she was my own daughter. I’d do anything to keep her safe.”

_ “I don’t know anything,” _ he stresses. “All I see is two _ parabatai _ who have been through a lot lately and are worried about each other after a situation where they almost didn’t make it out alive.”

“Keep talking,” Alec says. He’s watching Graymark, one arm still draped over Jace’s shoulders, fingers tapping an absent rhythm against Jace’s shoulderblade.

_ Convince us, _ Alec doesn’t say, but Graymark hears that anyway.

“I would never do anything to endanger Clary,” Graymark says.

“Okay,” Alec says, after letting the night stretch between them, considering. “We’ll go.”

Graymark flickers his gaze to Jace, like he expects Jace to say something. Which is pointless, because they already agreed.

Alec shifts, pushing away from the container, and Jace moves with him, doesn’t let him go far even when Alec pulls his arm away from Jace’s shoulders.

“We’ll go,” Alec repeats. “But we’re going to remember this, Graymark.”

“Yeah,” Graymark says, “I know you will.”

Jace smiles at him, like his teeth are still razor sharp and aching for Graymark’s throat, but only half of that is true.

And then they’re gone, black magic letting them take a step and be long gone, like they were never there, except for the bodies they leave behind.

Jace settles himself in Alec’s space again easily, Alec sprawled beneath him on an empty hotel room bed.

They settle back against each other’s bodies like they’d never moved, Jace’s face buried in Alec’s shoulder, Alec’s arms wrapped around his. Head tilted back, eyes closed, tapping his fingers against Jace’s spine.

Jace can feel their hearts beating in sync.

They’ll remember. They won’t forget.

**Author's Note:**

> The exact nature of Jace and Alec's relationship is ambiguous on purpose. This can be read as sexual or romantic or queerplatonic and is completely up to you. It's tagged appropriately for all of that.
> 
> Also we're... the majority of the fics in the SH DL;DR collection and I find this hilarious.
> 
> you can find us on [tumblr](alxndrlightwoods.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/alxndrlghtwood).


End file.
